Just a Kiss
by Victorian-Gothic
Summary: Sherlock Holmes returns to Baker Street to find a surprise waiting for him  Canon based     *Contains: Hidden desire, wanting and a single kiss...suggested M M*


Sherlock Holmes feeling a little worst for the long journey he had just finished wearily climbed the 17 steps to the rooms he shared with his friend and constant companion, wishing that Watson had been there to see him at work..stunning the almost inept local police with his deductive skills.

But unfortunately a rather vicious outbreak of some disease that Sherlock couldn't quite recall had kept Watson in London so the good doctor had thrown himself into helping out at whichever hospital needed him the most, while Holmes prepared for his travels north.

Holmes, marveled how the on the days before he left for the east coast and Whitby that Watson had been seized by such a frenzy of energy that would rival his own..never before had he seen his friend quite so animated as he tirelessly worked ungodly hours.

But if he was truthful, Sherlock worried that Watson was over taxing himself for his health was not exactly the most robust and the poor man was still prone not only to recurrences of enteric fever but he was constantly plagued by the damage done by the jezail bullets he received back in Afghanistan.

So the sight that halted him in his tracks as he opened the door to their shared sitting room was not entirely unexpected but still surprising.

There before a still roaring fire, sprawled out on the sofa and wrapped only in a obviously wet towel due to how it clung to the body was the sleeping form of one Doctor John H Watson. A half empty glass of brandy precariously held in one hand while the other arm was bent his head rested on it.

Sherlock looked around and saw that Watson's clothes had been discarded rather haphazardly for him and where left where they had fallen.

"The poor man must have been totally exhausted from working long hours", Sherlock thought to himself as he entered the room and quietly closed the door..grumbling at the too loud click the latch made.

Holmes closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the scent of lavender filled his nostrils and he couldn't help but smile, the Christmas before he had dared to buy Watson a selection of scented toiletries...he was glad to know his friend did make use of them.

Worried about them both having to face the wrath of Mrs Hudson should the remaining brandy be spilled over the floor..Sherlock went and knelt next to John in an effort to retrieve the glass and place it somewhere safer.

Only as he knelt there he could not help but gaze at the sleeping form of "his Boswell" his mouth slightly agape at the sight before him..yes Sherlock was well aware that in his youth John Watson had been rather athletic. In fact he still had a keen interest in sports but never did Holmes realise just how chiseled his friend was. The years may have passed and while Watson had lost some of the muscle but the broad shoulders and his finely tapering form showed Sherlock Holmes why so many women found Watson so irresistible

His bit his lip as a wave of pure jealously threatened to overtake him, how could they know him so and yet..he had to pretend, to deny his own simple desires.

Was it so wrong to care for another so...

Reaching out Holmes carefully strived to take the glass from Watsons hand only to have the man moan then mutter something unintelligible and roll onto his back. In doing this, the damp towel which had already been straining to cover his modesty slipped loose and came undone revealing to Sherlock Holmes exactly why he had managed to romance so many over three continents.

Holmes gulped then licked his lips and smiled, as his eyes slowly savoured the sleeping man before him.

The strength of his jaw with that delectable mustache that drew the eyes to those fine and ever so kissable lips, the broad well defined neck..the light brown hair that spread across his chest in fine curls that abruptly stopped at the site of the hideous scar that marred this other to unknown Adonis, the way it continued down his body leading him straight to...

Sherlock gulped down the remains of the brandy and shivered with desire, grateful in a way that Watson was so very sound asleep and thus not privy to seeing how he was so affected.

His eyes returned to devouring what lay before them...taking in every line of muscle and curve of thigh...his eyes traveled all the way down to Watson's toes and then back to what for them was the prize of all prizes.

Holmes found himself reaching out..he needed to touch, to feel but clenching his fist he sighed and moved his hand, gently pulling the towel back over his friend covering up his nakedness.

Again Watson moaned, only this time Holmes caught the words

"Kiss me"

Sherlock Holmes never even paused, even though he knew Watson was dreaming he lent forward and placed a tender kiss upon his lips...knowing full well the trouble such an action could cause and now terrified that he had ruined the one true friendship he had.

Watson took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking up at Sherlock in a mix of confusion and surprise.

"It, was just a kiss nothing more" Sherlock blurted out, more nervous than he had ever been in his life.

Watson smiled and reached up for the detective.

"Well then, I shall have to make it more"


End file.
